Tricking Stella: accidentally engaged
by Little-Firestar84
Summary: He hates dates, and moreover blind dates-especially if arranged by a noisy sibling. And to avoid an intrusion in his life, he'll have to prove that Mrs. Jane to be is already in the picture. Who to play the role, if not the one who has always his back?
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** **Tricking Stella- accidentally enaged**  
><strong>Author<strong>: LizFromItaly (Little_firestar on livejournal)  
><strong>Artist:<strong> dearthursday (for link to art, see my journal)  
><strong>Word Count<strong>: +20.900  
><strong>Rating<strong>: T  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> sadly, it's not mine. But my brother forgot to buy me a Christmas gift, and told me he would make it better in a couple of months fro my birthday... hey, a girl gotta dream, right?  
><strong>Notes:<strong> Second, and last, story for this year's Mentalist bigbang. Story's un-beated, so, all mistakes are mine. Many thanks to dearthursday for providing such an amazing and fitting art!  
>Please note: this si another post season 3 fic; but, keep in mind, that for the sake of story, season 4 hasn't happened yet, and never will, since in this reality the man Jane killed was, indeed, Red John.<p>

**Summary**: There's only one thing that, after so many years of celibacy, Jane hates more than dating- blind dates. Especially if arranged by a certain blonde truble-maker going by the name of Stella... but there's only one way to stop his opponent, and it's showing her that soon to be Mrs Jane has already entered into the picture. But when evidences will be needed, who will play the part? Easy- the one who always got his back, no matter what. Even if she'll have to sahre her life with him for a little while...

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><p><strong>One<br>**

She was mad, enraged, nervous, on the verge of a rather bad nervous breakdown and she didn't even know exactly why. That was what Teresa Lisbon, senior agent with the SCU at the CBI, knew in that particular Monday morning – particular because she was witnessing something she had never seen before, something she had never thought possible: Patrick Jane, almighty consultant, oh so great mentalist that everything saw and knew, was actually _pacing, _from his couch right to her office's front door and back, all the time staring at his feet and scratching the back of that head full of those glorious golden curls.

And that was exactly why she was mad, enraged, nervous and on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Because Patrick Jane looked like he was panicking. And if there was a thing she had got to know about the man, was that he never panicked, ever. Not on the outside, at least, and if he was actually doing it, right before their eyes…. it could only mean troubles. Bad news. And that he had done (or was going to do, no matter what) something wrong- that probably would end up costing her that job she was so fond of. And that had the tendency of allowing her to keep leaving into modern day society.

"Jane!" she screamed at the top of her lungs once he, again, turned to come back to his couch, barely acknowledging that she had been there, right in front of in, to begin with. Another point in favor of her "Jane did something wrong" theory. The man saw everything, and knew a lot (not everything, thanks to God) and, yes, she was short, but not that much to miss her at all, and if he hadn't seen her… then, it was really, really, bad. Kind of end of the world as she knew it scenario.

Turning on her heels to retreat to the safety of her office for the long, awaited heart to heart talk,_ s_he closed her eyes, hands already resting on her forehead, knowing too well that whenever Jane felt that bad was because he had done something extremely wrong without considering first the consequences …. Or he was going to, no matter what. Which was even worse, considering that she couldn't collect favors around any longer, after having collected them for years and years thanks to the troubles made by a better left unmentioned consultant… and she couldn't count on Bertram and Hightower any longer as well, since everything that could have done, they did it when they literally saved Jane's ass from life sentence or death penalty after the man had the brilliant idea of killing "Red John" out in the open in front of something like few hundred people – apparently, even if he was now the DA's deputy in LA, Sebastian Stark hadn't forgotten the time he used to be a high end defense attorney worth of checks with more than two couples of zeros, and even if did accept to come back to basic at the end to defend Jane, he didn't exactly did it for free, even if Lisbon herself had never been made aware of the particular conditions of the deal the three of them sealed in order to help Patrick Jane escaping that mess, letting him as clearer as possible.

She had even lied for him herself, a fact that the whole SCU was well aware of, and something that, if they had to be honest, troubled them all, not for the lie itself, but because they weren't sure he could still deserve it, not after what he had done. And it wasn't about killing Red John; they couldn't, officially, share his vision, couldn't agree with him, but they could understand. What they couldn't understand was how he could have done it after having heard the bullets through the phone, knowing that Lisbon had been hurt… the same Lisbon who cared about him, the same Lisbon he was supposed to care about in return, but, apparently, his affection for the petite woman wasn't as deep as hers, because not once he thought about running to her. Instead….

"Jane, dammit! You are unnerving me with that pacing! Drop it and come here!" in her mind, it was supposed to be an hissed sentence, but, truth to be told, it was quite the opposite- an honest to God scream, the last hope for opening up that thin skull that happened to cover what was supposed to be Jane's brain- if the man still had one, of course. Because it was bad enough that the man had fired at another human being surrounded by thousands of witnesses, no, he kept doing idiocies after idiocies, pulling stunts after stunts forgetting (or, maybe, simply not caring at all) about what good old judge Swenson ordered… she really couldn't understand how the man could be that… that much of an idiot. How could he not get that her was constantly watched over and monitored? How could he forget that, first mistake, first broken rule, he'd be out of the CBI for good just to be sent again in jail?

She momentary froze in both fear and anticipation, like that moment was just meant to happen, remembering how, thanks to Stark, the jury didn't find the consultant guilty of first degree murder, thanks to the fact that "Red John" had been armed at the time and was in the process of escaping in hope of kill yet again and again, but, still, they didn't list it as justifiable homicide, but as an excess of legitimate defense (forgetting that he did use a weapon that wasn't his to begin with, but unregistered, probably stolen, coming from who knew where, and that he carried and used it without being licensed), and, instead of jail (that would have been earned, considering his happy and playful behavior during the trial) , the too good to be true Swenson sent him back to the CBI, with minimum wage, kind of a social work… too bad the consultant kept behaving like the 5 years old he swore he no longer was from over 35 years, making the gates of the Maximum Security State Penitentiary of Pelican Bay closer and closer each passing day. Not exactly a comfortable thought.

_It can't be worse than cold blood murder in front of thousands of witnesses. _she though once she saw him actually entering in her office and taking a seat in front of her- not the couch he had given her one year prior, but the chair in front of her desk, an unusual behavior that made her foreseen the worst. Well, now at least she knew that whatever it was, it was kind of bad, and if his unusual demeanor wasn't proof enough, he even kept silent. And he was looking at her with puppy eyes and a light blush. And he was nervous -the whole world knew that Patrick Jane didn't do nervous, socially awkward, he could do, especially if having to deal with other women, but nervous was definitely another pair of shoes. Nor he usually was silent, like now.

Good. Now she knew for sure that the Apocalypse was coming to get her with her bony fingers. Or was that Death? "Dammit, Jane, what did you do this time?" she begged like a child, exasperated, fighting the urge to hide her face and hit it against her desk. She wasn't exactly looking forward a cerebral commotion just too injury to the injured. Especially because of him. He wasn't worth days in a cold and sterile hospital.

"I may have done a _small_ mistake, that, though, could have eventually escalated into a _bigger_ mistake, and I'd really need your help to remedy to this unfortunate situation…" Lisbon could see he was struggling to keep his façade in place, trying to look calm even if he wasn't feeling it at all… and she didn't know what she was supposed to feel. Part of her was kind of relieved, because it was quite a novelty seeing the man asking for help, showing that he had understood they were a team and a surrogate family of sort, but… he was asking _her _for help, not Rigsby, Van Pelt or Cho… which, in her mind, equaled to the sentence "Jane's superior is that close to losing her job because of her consultant", which equaled big troubles for her.

She mentally wondered if McDonald's and Burger King were ready to hire a former lady-cop close to 40 who had spent her life sending behind bars criminals and dealing with idiotic consultants fully unable to follow any kind of law and moral and/or ethic rule of behavior… oh well, at least, even if the economy was going to hell, food was still on top of people's priorities.

"So, tell me, who's gonna hear me begging for clemency this time?" Hearing the words, he barely suppressed a smile; he wasn't going to actually smile, though, because of her exasperated tone, even if the way she was already giving up on the fight was almost irresistible. Even if he was used to it, because 98% of the times it was how their "battles" tended to end, she still surprised him, accepting what she called herself "stupid ideas" every time he spoke, even if she had to put up a fight before doing so, even if he was whom he was and had done what he had done, breaking, he knew it, the trust they so hardly built in years of hard work. "Jane?" she almost whispered, voice low and worried, but not worried for her, he could see it. Even with everything he had done, Lisbon still kept worrying about him. She was really something, Saint Theresa.

He lifted, again, his eyes to meet hers as her voice awoke him from the reverie he had fallen into, victim to the memories he couldn't help but experience yet again… his heart lost a beat, like it had done more than once in the last few months when the dark haired woman was concerned, and Jane decided it wasn't the moment nor the place to think about it, too scared to really face what it meant for his relationship with Lisbon, but, mostly, for him in particular…. Even if Red John was long gone, Jane was sure he wasn't ready yet to move on, even if every time she was close his heart lost a beat, and there was a good chance that time would never come at all. And besides…

Besides, there was the not insignificant particular that Lisbon was worth much more than him, a former fraud who enjoyed lies and deceptions, using everyone and everything to fulfill his selfish needs and desires, too caught into his own web to remember who he was supposed to care about, look after, his greatest mistake, his greatest regret, what made him for all eternity a man only for half, a broken creature who forgot all about living, someone who just existed, who saw everyone experiencing life but unable to be protagonist of his own... definitely not someone Lisbon should have been interested in, not with the life she had gone through, because he knew it. She deserved better, more.

"My problem is…. Stella's coming to town." He smiled his megawatt killer smile, doing his best to seem normal and calm. He hoped he was doing his best impression, considering that, lately, Lisbon was keeping giving him a hard time. After almost 9 years year spent alongside each other, as co-workers first, friends lately (and then, maybe, just maybe, even something more, in the security of their own hearts) it looked like the woman had learnt what his Achilles' heels were, the holes in his armor. (Did she know she was his biggest hole, his biggest heel?).

She remained speechless for some instants, so long it looked like an eternity, her heartbeat so slow it was imperceptible, almost inexistent, and all because of a name, Stella. The name he told her, a female name, one she didn't know, never heard before, someone who made him nervous, who worried him and definitely not in the negative.

"Stella, you said?" she tried to sound as natural as possible, scared that he could understand, know what thinking about him with another woman did to her, and she couldn't allow it. Never look frail, never look too human, too woman, especially to Jane. She could go on through everything, but not unrequired love, not with him knowing about her feelings, it'd be too much, too humiliating, too demoralizing…. She couldn't comprehend the chance of working with him, with Jane knowing, and if she couldn't have him as a lover, she'd stick with the friend, but renouncing to the whole package was something she wasn't willing to loose yet, but… but, deep down, she knew, like she had always had, that it was something that couldn't last for the eternity, this kind of state of grace he was into, a man free from the ghost of his past and from any kind of romantic relationship. One day, he'd walk into the sunset with another woman, and that day she'd renounce any claim on him, making room from the one he could really belong to, but right now, right now she wasn't ready to, not yet, and it was just… wrong, and unfair.

"I never told you about Stella? Weird, I thought…." He red her with his curious eyes, wondering whether she was lying or not, and smirked, a smile of joy on features signed by years of sufferance but still kissed by the bright Californian sun, and she lowered her eyes, desperately trying to hide the deep red nuance her face was getting. "I thought it was in my file. Well, doesn't matter, we can easily remedy that- Stella is my sister."

"Jane, you don't have a sister, so stop bullshitting me" she didn't know if being exasperated or simply laugh, sure more than ever that Jane was actually pulling one of his stunts on her, also because the opposite wasn't acceptable… was it possible for her not knowing such a basic fact, that he could have forgotten to share it with her, or, even wore… had he deliberately forgot to tell her?

She studied him like she had often done in the past, and come to a simple realization: the answer to her last question was a yes, he could have deliberately forgotten to share Stella's existence with her, because it was a classic Jane thing to do, solving mysteries, reveal secrets but never his, beating around the bush for so long, with those eyes and those killer smiles his opponent could only forget what they were talking about to begin with.

"Oh, yes, I indeed have a sister, Lisbon, even if, technically, for both the law and genetic Stella is "merely" my half –sister. We share only the same mother, you know, she was born after my parents divorced and I got a step-father I saw I think a couple of times in my whole life… let's say I wasn't exactly too close to mummy after she abandoned the carnie circuit for a plain and boring life as an ordinary housewife."

"You, Patrick Jane, have a younger sister."

"Yep, and, unfortunately, Stella is kind of… authoritative- I love her, I really do, but she has too many ideas about how I should live my life, ideas I'm not exactly keen about, so every time she comes to visit, I end up hiding in some hole telling her I'm on an out of town case in order to avoid stupid arguments or stupid arguments escalating into colossal arguments with screams of rage, and, I think, once even broken dishes, but I could have dreamt that, I wasn't exactly myself at the time."

"So, she doesn't like that you work with law enforcement? Listen, I understand she may be worried, or even see this as a dangerous job, but, c'mon, that's exaggerating! You are not supposed to have a gun, I'm not the one sending you on the first line against barbarians, even if you do tend to get into the same troubles I kept ordering you to avoid." She scrolled her head, rather disturbed, like this Stella was questioning her decisions towards the man's well-being (while it was completely Jane's own doing), and then, suddenly, it hit her, something she remembered hearing once, a sentence said by one of Jane's old friends, a certain Pete. Or was it his wife? "I seriously hope it's not because you work with us, with you being a Jane and us being cops... it's not a bad thing that you developed a minimum of semblance of honesty!"

He didn't like the use of the affirmation "minimum of semblance of honesty", not a bit, and got him to stare at Lisbon with crossed arms and clenching teeth, desperately fighting the need to use some witty or not too nice remark that he knew she couldn't appreciate at all. But, even if it was hard, really, really hard, he still resisted, because he was quite a good (or at least soft) man when it come to her. But, really, he hadn't liked that sentence at all. He wasn't some kind of monster (despite having killed a murderer), and even when he lied and manipulated, he did it for a greater good. "She is unnerved by the fact I'm not thinking about remarrying, Lisbon" He grunted, annoyed by how judgmental of him and his own family she had been. Because even if she kept warring about him, Stella was proud of what he had achieved in the last decade or so. Well, not completely- apparently, she shared with Lisbon her opinion about Red John's killing.

"Oh" She just said, blushing yet again of that deep red nuance he happened to love so much. There wasn't anything she think she could say, or even just think. Yet again, she had to admit that the thought of Jane dating, or worse, getting married was just too painful for her to consider.

"Yeah. Stella is disturbed by the fact I keep refusing dating, so she has decided it's her mission to introduce me to every single female from 21 to 60 she happens to know, something I'm not exactly a big fan of. And that brings us yet again to the starting point: I need your help." He got comfortable on the chair, looking at her like he did when he shared one of his master plans. The old Jane was back-in part, at least.

"Well, telling that we have an out of town case it's no big deal for me. I don't agree with your actions, but I can understand them. But, in your shoes, I'd…."

"Well, actually, that's not the point. You see, couples of days ago, she called me, telling me everything there is to know about this friend of a friend of a friend she wants to introduce me to, and how I absolutely have to go to dinner with this lady one of these days, and I know I should have said just to drop it and get lost, but Stella is my little sister and she can be kind of cute, and even if it's paradoxical, she just cares about me, and so, I just didn't know what to say, and I thought that maybe…. I could tell her… that I kind of met someone, and that we are crazy about each other and are in the process of projecting our future together…. You know, marriage, children, white fence, two cars in the garage and a cat and a dog, that sort of things."

Just his surname, whispered like a lament, left her lips as Lisbon massaged her temples. She knew that nothing good could come out of that kind of lies, and besides, she had a bad feeling. She shivered, realizing what his words could mean for her, why he was telling her these things.

"I know, believe me, I do, it's just that it took me years to make her close her mouth, and it was… I felt free! Only, she then asked me about all the details, and so I had to improvise, and so I may have told her that we are getting married. The two of us. So, would you mind playing my soon to be bride for few days, for the sake of one of the longest friendship relationship you had in your whole life and don't try to claim the opposite because I know it's true?" he never breathed once while he talked, closed eyes to avoid her enraged expression once she'd realized what he meant, what he had actually said about them.

But he got only silence, a long, interminable silence. "Lisbon?" he dared to call her, in the same tone she had used with him just minutes before, and, finally, he opened his eyes, wondering what punishment she was working on in her mind, but once their eyes met, he didn't saw anger. It only looked like she was asking if she had been traveling across universe, ending in another one, different from her own, where rules didn't exist nor apply, a place she didn't know anything about, she didn't understand.

"Just, tell me if I got it right: since you don't want your sister to arrange blind dates for you, you told her you are getting married. With me."

"Well, if you put it that way…. Yes, I'm guilty as charged." she sank into her chair, breathing in and out deeply, at closed eyes; still, the moment Jane moved to join her and sit on the edge of her desk, she suddenly become fully aware of his very presence. She could feel it, the warmth of that masculine body, the hormones he emitted, his scent…the clear scent of his marine aftershave, the perfume of the freshly laundered grey three pieces suite, the sensation of freshness and cleanliness that come from him in general. "It's not going to be that much, you should just pretend to be in love with me for few days. I don't ask to be cheesy or find me irresistible, even if I'm aware it's hard not finding me irresistible…." His voice was somehow amused, low, a velvety caress whispered on her skin, and she couldn't help but wonder…. Did he know it? Was he aware of the fact that she did find him irresistible, and that in a perfect world, the world of illusions, inside her most secret dreams, so secret it took her years to acknowledge them, he always asked her to be his and not for an act but for real, forever and ever?

That was the kind of chances that didn't happen twice, and maybe it was just what she needed to forget about Jane and move on once and for all and get a decent love-life worth of the name instead of one night stands, to remember herself, and accept, that he wasn't going to suddenly wake up one morning and acknowledge her existence as a female being, deciding that he couldn't live any longer without Teresa Lisbon's love.

"I was quite the actress back in high school" she admitted, smiling, with false nonchalance, scrolling her shoulders, looking into Jane's eyes, a man who was smiling happy and proud of the smile he usually let for cases solved thanks to his so-called genius.

"We'll have to be careful, Stella is almost as good as me when it comes to cold reading people, fooling her will not be easy. We'll have to be at our top and seem veritable." He paused, like reflecting, then he faced Lisbon yet again, and she remained at open mouth, thinking about where she thought he was going, flushed, exited but scared as well by the new situation. "And, speaking of which, I fear we'll have to share my house for few days, and maybe…. Even consider the possibility of sharing my bedroom, if I'm not asking too much."

He grinned. And she merely blushed, making him just grin furthermore.

Yes, she was both scared and exited by the new development, exited because she'd be, even if just for an act, Patrick Jane's girlfriend, and scared because there was a good change he was going to find out about her feeling for him.

But saying no had never been an option. Because she wasn't ready to give up on him, to let him go. Not yet.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** sadly, it's not mine. But my brother forgot to buy me a Christmas gift, and told me he would make it better in a couple of months fro my birthday... hey, a girl gotta dream, right?  
>..<p>

**A/N. **thanks to everyone who put me on alert and on favs-looks like I'm more appreciated when I wrote romance... and in particular, to Lady Blackwolf (thanks for the compliments, I'm glad you found them In character), Aania, Miss Donnie, Chymom, Angry little princess and Mione Ootori for the rewiews...

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><p><strong>Two<strong>

It was another few days (classic of Jane to tell her everything at the last moment, when he did tell her things at all, that it was) before he welcomed her in his so-called "humble home", in sight of the incoming farce.

Lisbon had already been there once, few months prior, in the wake of the trial, still hurt and mad beyond reason, when, after having purchasing the place, on Van pelt's insistence, exasperated by her puppy dog eyes and a bit sorry for all her broken hearts (a couple of them caused indirectly by him) Jane accepted to give a small party (i.e. allowed the redhead to arrange one) to Christian the home, but, still, it was like Lisbon was seeing it for the first time, with new eyes, noticing things she hadn't noticed the first time around, and she wasn't sure how she was supposed to react to the meaning of these things she was seeing. Also because she wasn't even sure if he had done them deliberately or unconsciously.

His new places didn't fit the description of the classic bachelor home; actually, if she had to be completely honest, she was almost completely sure that this kind of house was more fitting for a family than a man who wasn't planning to have a family at all, never ever, not again, at least; it wasn't simply for the numerous rooms (at least 4), the huge garden (where she could easily see a small homely playground) nor the perfect and quiet neighborhood, close to few of the best schools in the area, from kindergarten to High School.

It was some kind of vibe she could feel, though, it was like from the darkness Jane had fallen prisoner of for so long, a long time before, he was finally starting to see the light – hope - yet again, almost free but not there yet. And it was so sad, that she couldn't bring herself to fully accept that he was finally embracing the light of hope, well aware that, once done it, he'd be free, able to build a better future for himself and for the woman at his side, a woman she knew couldn't be herself, definitely the last candidate Jane would have chosen.

"Stella will be here tomorrow. Until then, make yourself at home and feel free to explore. I know that there's not a lot of time, but, I'd be glad if you could give your personal touch here and there…you have your things, right?" His words, his tone, transmitted that he was somehow radiant, but shy and at easy (in his pitch black apron) at the same time, Lisbon realized it as soon as he opened his mouth; but, as often with Jane, he didn't gave her too long to analyze the situation, since, once opened her the door, he just vanished, immediately, back into the kitchen, waiting silently for her to follow him, forgetting everything about her baggage, left all alone in the hallway.

She didn't enter, though, preferring to lean against the doorframe to give a look at that man she knew from almost a decade, study him in the same way he always did with the rest of the world- something he'd find unnerving, quite surely - captivated by the sight of him, busy working through the stoves with the same almighty abilities he had in almost every other field, like he was some sort of magician able to do everything; she was, though, broken hearted as well, almost on the verge of tears for the knowledge that this new, rare and somehow unexpected breath-taking show (the sight of domestic Jane, Patrick, the sight of the easiness with which he navigated through the stoves, his brio) was something she wasn't going to see again, that, one day, another woman would be witnessing it. Another woman. Not her.

"So… what did you tell Stella, about us, I mean?" it took her what looked like an eternity to finally formulate the words, any words, and when she did, eyes focused on the pavement, she was grateful God was listening to her prayers, grateful that Jane was busy cooking and wasn't looking at her, seeing her, noticing all the signs that could give away her feelings, her unrequited and painful love for that astonishing man.

"Uhm, I told her your name, that we met once I joined the CBI, but that I waited till you know whom was dead before making a move on you, because I couldn't bear the thought of losing you, and also because I was sure I wasn't worth your affection. Actually, I still think it from time to time, but you always reassure me I'm wrong." he answered at low voice, almost a whisper, with a strange tone, something she couldn't understand the reason behind, like she couldn't fathom the reason behind the small nervous laughter he did before adding another short sentence. "I thought to stay as close as possible to the truth."

_The truth_, she thought, the truth was that they weren't a couple, and she was almost sure that the possibilities for them to become one were less than zero, especially on Jane's side, because he was Patrick Jane, and she was… she was just Teresa Lisbon, a CBI agent he used and was still using, even for different reasons. "That's all?" she asked, the delusion so clear in her voice he didn't need to turn and look at her to actually see the emotion hidden behind such a simple statement, a couple of words. "I'd third degree Tommy if he'd come to me announcing his impeding wedding, like any other nosey sister would"

"She may or may not have asked me how you are" he smiled of an honest smile, his features enlightened by his good mood, and she got close, closer and closer, joined him at his side, putting a finger into the spicy sauce he was working on and licking it at closed eyes, moaning in pleasure, shivers pervading his very being as he stared at her, still standing, irregular breathing, irregular heart-beat, and thoughts invading his mind, indecent fantasies of the two of them and that brand new bed he had barely used until then, and always alone anyway. "And, Uhm, that you are nice and funny, devoted to your work, your friends and your family"

As he said those words, he moved to take a serviette on the counter in the same instant she did, fingers touched, eyes met, breath died into their throats, and he spoke, he started to speak again, his voice deep and low, while he interlaced their fingers together, drawing invisibles patterns on her knuckles, his eyes lost into her ones, a smile full of sadness because she knew it was just temporary, just a lie, and he wasn't hers, couldn't be hers. "I told her she'll get why I want to marry again as soon as she'll see you." He stopped and stared, like he only noticed back then what he was actually doing, like he was scared by the sudden intimacy, and tried to joke, to be light, proving to himself he wasn't the great performer he had always claimed to be. " we'll be lucky if she'll not try to force us into getting married while she is here"

"Yeah, and we don't want it…" she managed to answer, a feeble smile on her face, once sat in front of him at the table, busy just playing with the food, unable to get to actually start eating, no interest or want whatsoever.

"Yeah, we definitely don't want that…." His answer was flat, no sign of smile, no trace of joke, like he wasn't really there. A though that crossed her mind once again a good minute later, when he left the room, leaving her alone to study the emptiness of the kitchen and the lack of sound, wondering what was going on, what she had done…. Maybe it was too much for him, maybe he thought that the farce was contaminating the memory of his time like an husband, a real one, the time spent at the side of his beloved late wife, definitely not simple and boring Teresa Lisbon, who was so different from Angela, a princess among royalties in her own, little world.

"Jane?" she called after him, a slight note of panic in her voice that raised when the thought of him, regretting the show, crossed her mind. She knew there wasn't any reason to think it, to consider it, but… she was scared, she didn't want for it to be over so soon, couldn't allow it, not yet. She still needed him, Patrick, her fake boyfriend for a couple of days, even if just to send that colossal unrequired love out of her system once and for all. Who knew, maybe getting to know the "real" him could have helped her into opening her eyes, maybe he sucked at being a boyfriend and he wasn't that good in his domestic version as he seemed to be…

"I need your hand" she heard his voice before she could see him coming back into the kitchen, and before she could realize it, he was sitting at her side, a red and gold jewelry box now on the table, right in front of her. Lisbon immediately understood what was hidden behind the velvet, she didn't need to look inside for getting it. Still, grinning mischievously at her awe expression, he opened the box, and took her left hand into his lap to confirm her suspicions.

She blushed, mesmerized by the sight, as he slowly put the ring on her finger, with attention, finesse and something she couldn't even give a name to. She hardly stuttered the words, unable to recognize her own voice, turned into something alien for the hurricane of emotions going through her. "There…. There was no need for…for this….."

"Ah, please, Stella would have never believed us without a proper ring on your finger." He studied her, lost into the sight not of Teresa as a whole, but only of the ring on her finger, and he knew, he just did, that she was, or at least seemed, astonished as well, as lost as he was in the sight of Jane's hands around hers, warm, protective, secure, so gone she didn't saw his eyes on her. "I hope you don't mind if I didn't choose diamonds, but, despite being considered a girl's best friends, they don't fit you, they are cold, something that you…. Definitely are not. Do you like this?" she bit her lips as her eyes couldn't stop looking at the ring and the joined hands, traitorous tears ready to emerge from her irises, she didn't know if it was because of the ring- yellow gold, quite antique, with emeralds and pearls, simple but classy, somehow a perfect match in style to the old cross at her neck – or because of his tone, so anxious like he was really proposing to the woman of his life, of his dreams.

"It's beautiful" she finally elaborated, eyes meeting, the green of her irises identical to the emeralds, as bright and shiny as the stones on the ring, and he gulped silently, unable to look away from the vision that was taking place right before him, a dream that was, in some kind of twisted way, coming true, even if it was just a lie for the both of them, and he had to fight it, the impulse of getting closer and closer, putting his lips on her owns, tasting her, enjoying her, and it was such a strong temptation that he got that close to give up and surrender to his own selfish needs. "It's perfect, I adore it"

_If you were proposing me, we would be kissing right now._ She thought, without stopping to stare at him. She had always had problems, when it came to staring at him, but now, it was getting worse. So she did just it- she stared at him, eyes in the eyes, and he shivered, because it was simple, looking at each other, but now it was full of so many meanings, old and new and never faced before, and he couldn't do it, so he looked away, left the table, left the room, scared by the very idea of falling victim to carnal temptation, something he couldn't do, not with her, because she needed someone better than him, and it wasn't right for him as well, and it was embarrassing enough as things were, there was no reason to make them worse, because she had been nice and sweet into helping him out, and he couldn't do it, seducing her, risking for her to believe it was all just a game, that she was just a game, a mean to an end, nor he could survive thinking he'd be just another nameless one night stand by alcohol induced stupor in some Sacramento dirty tavern, the guy she had fun with while waiting for the love of her life to arrive on his white horse, a love that couldn't be him, because Teresa Lisbon was someone he couldn't lose, wasn't ready to give up whatever there was between them yet, even if it meant never love her, but doing so always from afar, always in secret.

"Uhm, listen Lisbon, I was thinking, as long as Stella is here, well, we should share a room, my bedroom, I mean. It's just that, Stella knows me, and that, despite the appearance of my impeccable look, I'm not that old fashioned, at least not in… that department, and, uhm, I doubt she could believe that we are engaged to be married, living under the same roof, but, uhm, not sharing even the same bedroom, so…" he was scratching the back of his head nervously, pacing the place, but, as soon as he made "the offer", he stopped, and turned to face her. She was red, oh so red, blushing as deep as a rose because of the sinful images populating her mind, embarrassed beyond reason, full of hope, hope that he couldn't really read minds. "I mean, share a room as in sleeping, as in, actually sleeping, as much as we can, with me being a chronic insomniac, and you having to settle down in a new bed. I mean, you know, sharing a room, platonically speaking, of course."

_Yes, because that's the only thing you want to do with me….unfortunately._ She lamented inside her own mind, deluded, hoping he couldn't hear her suspires from where he was, but too busy putting plates inside the dishwasher, putting everything back to really get to care, to even just think about it for real – it was her little secret, whenever she felt this way, she'd start ordering the place, and just because that was Jane's place it didn't mean it was any different.

When he strolled, nervous and a bit uncomfortable, into his alcove, it took her a while to join him in there, her attempts at calming down, erasing her thoughts having failed miserably. She still had that weight upon her shoulders, still felt it, tired, so tired like she hadn't been in a long time, tempted to shout at him, begging between tears to make her dreams come true, begging him to sign her, to mark her, to take her, spending hours and hours making love together, until they wouldn't be fully sated of pleasure of beatitude, without a gram of energy left in them.

"If you want, I can take my pillow and sleep on the pavement…" again he scratched the back of his head while talking, low voice, sad voice, already taking a pajama from the wardrobe, not his favorite one but a nice light blue, a nuance so strange it could seemed sometimes blue, sometimes of some green, more fitting for her, so similar to her eyes, than his. But then again, even his eyes could change color, sometimes green, sometimes blue, according to the light, according to the mood. She would have liked it, he just knew it.

She didn't answered immediately, didn't know how to, so she simply dumped her suitcase on the bed, ready to undo it, already regretting the lack of something sexy inside it, between her whole possessions. She didn't need to, after all, with her casual adventures, with him not being interested, with him knowing too well she used to sleep in jerseys, gifts of her brothers, that he had already seen his good share of along the years.

"I don't know, I mean, if Stella is so similar to you as you say, I'd not be surprised if she'd come in without knocking first, just to have a look at us cuddling together in bed in the middle of the night!" she screamed it, because she was no longer there, disappeared into the ensuite bathroom to come back ready in just a matter of minutes, eyes glued on Jane, on his back, the man sitting on the edge of the bed, she guessed his side, uneasy. "Jane, this bed is huge, and I doubt you'll try to feel me up in my sleep!" she laughed, hysterically, false, finally convincing him to join her under the covers (without too much convincing), standing on his side, or at least, what she assumed was his side… the side opposite to the one she usually slept. Typical of Jane, she thought, knowing everything, understanding everything. Even her feelings, maybe? She didn't know. She hoped not… fate couldn't hate so much!

"Goodnight, then" he said while turning off the light, perplexed, still uneasy, the only sound the one of the bed, creaking under their weight as they tried to get comfortable at each other's side.

"You too" she whispered, but taking a breath so big that he couldn't miss it. She closed her eyes, trying to forget that the man she loved more than her own life was so close to her, mere centimeters, lying in a bed engulfed by darkness and silence; the same bed where she was, the same bed where, she knew, sleep was going to elude her.  
><strong><br>**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** sadly, it's not mine. But my brother forgot to buy me a Christmas gift, and told me he would make it better in a couple of months fro my birthday... hey, a girl gotta dream, right?  
>..<p>

**A/N. **thanks to everyone who put me on alert and on favs-looks like I'm more appreciated when I wrote romance...

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><p><strong>Three<strong>

When she woke up, she didn't know what time it was. She wasn't sure, and neither she cared. What mattered, what she noticed, was that, sometimes, during their sleep, she and Jane had orbited towards each other: like she used to do at home, in her own bed, she was sleeping on her side, but right now there was few differences, because her back wasn't against the cold air any longer, but a firm chest, she had a strong and muscular arm around her waist, and on her neck, on her long, dark hair, she could feel a quiet, regular and hot breath, the air leaving his body, Jane's body. It was, somehow, an alien sensation, one almost forgotten, and never felt so strongly, and it was so sudden, so powerful, that it awoke in her wishes she had kept hidden for long, too long, wishes and… needs.

She didn't thought, just acted on her impulses, when, slowly, she turned into his embrace, and felt mixed emotions filling her very being when she realized that her movements weren't awakening him: she was happy, for Jane, because she had always knew of his issues with insomnia and his recurring nightmares, lasted almost a decade, almost driving him crazy, but she was also sad, and a tad disappointed, when she saw that he wasn't reacting in any way to her presence, her female body pressed against his male one, definitely the opposite of the behavior she was keeping.

She hadn't ended to think about this that he did react to her presence, only, not as she had hoped, definitely not: he_ turned_, falling against the mattress on his back with a heavy thud, a moan escaping his beautiful and full lips like he was talking out loud in his sleep. It drove her mad, thinking that even his subconscious was trying to stay away from her, not getting closer, not allowing her that embrace, just that, an embrace, her biggest wish.

Lisbon's eyes fell again on his lips. She couldn't help but looking at them, _staring_ at them, in the semidarkness of the room, her mind was set on a vision, something she knew was wrong and so many other things, but…. A kiss. She wanted to kiss him, only once, just to know how it felt, being kissed by him, the man who could read everyone and knew everything. She was sure he could be a great lover, a master, a virtuoso… she needed to know, needed to feel it, even if it was wrong, even if it was dangerous. But she still needed it, couldn't live without it. And she knew, deep down, that it was now or never.

She cuddled against him, her hands on his warm chest, so hot she could feel his warmth through the cotton of his shirt, and moved her lips to his neck, letting them stay there, closing her eyes in bliss to better enjoy, better feel the moment, the experience of breathing him in, that unique essence that was him and him only, Patrick Jane.

Leaving a trail of small and light kisses, her lips moved on their own volition to his jaw, while her hands went under his shirt, to feel his still toned chest, his still well definite muscles in the flesh, and she knew. She knew it was wrong and she knew it was dangerous, she kept repeating it, again and again, but she still couldn't help it, couldn't stop herself, it was too late, she was playing with the fire, she was going to suffer, to get burned, but she had to go on, because he was simply too much. Jane was her favorite drug, and she was already addicted to the pleasure, the emotion that touching him gave her.

When her lips moved again, still on their own volition, to his throat, she stopped to think, stopped to calculate, stopped to pull back, and her kisses, they turned into open-mouthed, wet ones, and in bites of pure pleasure and lust; her hands started to unbutton his shirt, greedier and greedier, the breathing of the man underneath her now stifled, broken… and frozen.

She opened her eyes, wide with terror, sure that he was going to push her away, leave, to never come back to her ever again, because, under her, Jane was fully awake, blue-green orbs staring back at her with mixed emotions, and no thoughts at all, empty of reason, full of passion, lust, desire, and need.

He forced her body flush against his own so that she could feel by herself the force if his desire for her, the effects she had on him, and insinuated a traitor hand under the red shirt, that shirt that she didn't know, but was hunting his dreams from a long time, years of hidden and secret passion kept under control only out in the open but never in his dreams and his heart. He explored the surrendering flesh of the woman, the warm and alive skin, making it even warmer with a single pass of his fingertips, palming and stroking and even just skimming her breasts and back and stomach. The other hand followed the caveman side of his brain, going directly into her hair, dark as the night, that scent of vanilla and cinnamon that drove him crazy, always had; he lifted her head, so that they were staring back at each other eyes in the eyes, but it didn't last long. Not because the contact stopped. But because it became more personal, more physical, more lust-filled.

In a world empty of reason and thoughts, their lips found each other, skimming again and again and again in what seemed an infinite dance, but they both wanted more, needed more. His lips were hot, burning like fire on hers, persuasive; the excitation was rising, liquid heat in their veins, almost boiling; their kisses were frantic, were greedy, especially on his side, like they needed to make up for the lost time, like they were scared of losing other precious time and couldn't afford it.

He reluctantly pulled away, released her lips when he went for the murdering hit, discharging her clothes on the pavement – she kept her breath, trying to not think about it, to wait for when it was going to be over, because she couldn't afford it right now. Right now she wanted to think just about one matter and one matter only: Jane, the one she had wanted for so long, claiming her, taking her, marking her.

She wanted, she needed for them to be one, even just for once, so she reciprocated his actions, undressing the blonde, and when he started kissing her, touching her, becoming one with her, again and again, she lost herself in the sensation, in the unstoppable pleasure that Jane moving placid but firm in her was going to bring her, that edge she could almost feel on the tip of her tongue, from feet to hair; it had been a long time, so long, for both of them, and it was intense, so intense, that they both knew they couldn't last. But, strange enough, both didn't care. The duration wasn't what was important right now, it was the act in itself, pure and simple, not because they wanted it to be over, but because they needed to share that special, precious, moment together.

It was just few minutes before he suffocated the seemingly endless primordial scream of orgasm by biting the tender skin at the juncture of her neck and shoulders, by hiding his face in the valley between Lisbon's breasts, Lisbon, so willing to vocalize that pleasure so along desired, foretasted, dreamt of- it didn't last long, though, because, before she could fully come down from her high, Jane, stark naked, jerked away from her with a quick feline movement, going to sit on the opposite side of the bed, far away from Lisbon.

Lisbon, who still joined him, going at his side, staying in the nude at his back.

"Jane…" she whispered, barely touching his shoulder, her fingers lingering on the hot and sweating skin full of pheromones, fear for the disgust, sufferance for the rejection but happiness covered by a tiny veil of shame present inside the tiny woman mixed together. "Jane, I'm sorry...I…I got carried away."

"It's the same for me" he answered her with a quiet whisper, trying to scroll his shoulders in a fake attempt at nonchalance, but failing miserably. "I'm sorry Lisbon, I didn't want for that to happen. I'm really sorry, I should have never done it."

"Do you… do you really? Regret it…" she was disappointed and extremely sad, and he didn't need to be a mentalist to know it, he didn't even need to look at her. It was all in her voice, in the voice of that woman who couldn't bring herself to stop staring at his sweating back.

He slightly turned so that she could see him. "No" he answered with honesty, his lips graced by a true smile, a malicious and mischievous light. "But we can't deny we've been both been a bit irresponsible. We rushed so quickly into this, that we didn't even think about…" he cursed, fingers running through his hair, massaging his scalp. "I could have gotten you pregnant with my stupidity!"

"I'm on the pill, you silly idiot, I'm not such an irresponsible like someone here, you know?" there was a smile on her lips, a smile in her voice as she answered him, the sexually satisfied woman somehow reassured he didn't regret it- it didn't matter the reason, what mattered was that he didn't labeled it as a mere mistake, something to forget, to pretend it never existed, never happened. It had to be enough, even if….

She didn't regret it, Lisbon was sure of it, and knowing that he didn't as well was a balsam for her soul, but, still, she was fighting a battle inside her very soul, a battle she couldn't foresee the outcome of, because there was one question, and one question only, running wild inside her head: how was she supposed to survive without that, without him? It was simple: she wasn't ready yet, so, she had to take charge of the situation, before he could come back to his senses, before he'd ask her to never allow it to repeat, ever again. "Jane, we didn't harm anyone. And… we are both adults, and there's nothing wrong with what we did, and I think that, considering that we do have to share a bed for few days anyway…" her hands explored yet again his body, this time naked skin, this time with a purely lust-induced aim, her lips nipped the skin of his neck, his shoulders, his earlobe, Jane's eyes closed to fully master the sensation, "I think we should take advantage of the situation, until Stella is here…"

"Yes, and there's no reason to… it's not necessary for us…. We are adults and we can… deal with this…situation….in an adult way like the responsible adults we both are…" words merely escaped his mouth. Words that didn't represent him, his dreams, his hopes. He hoped she knew. He feared she didn't.

"I'm just sorry I woke you up…" she barely said the words, barely any sound left her mouth as she straddled his hips between moans of sheer ecstasy.

"Is that so?" with a quick move, eyes as huge as saucer, he exchanged position, sending her on her back, his body flat against her own, covering her with his weight, so, so welcome, so nice and utterly beautiful inside out, ready to carry on as long as she needed it, ready to wait until she wasn't ready to have him yet again.

"Nope" she smiled with malice at the words, her lips once again on his own, and she attacked him, marking him as hers like he had done with her.

She woke up many hours later, as soon as she heard the sound of the alarm – one of those old traps, so fifties, so Jane-ish – feeling satisfied and sated but disappointed, the side of the bed opposite to hers cold and empty, void of the man who had filled her with his warm for the whole night.

Her hand reached that empty spot, trying to find it, the remaining warmth left by him when he had left, but it wasn't a sensation, a feeling she found on the pillow, his pillow. It was a note, elegantly written with a fountain pen, black ink, on a plain white sheet.

_I'm gone to the airport - I let you sleep in for once, you need it. Hope you'll not mind, but I really didn't feel like disturb you. See you later-soon._

Just few words, and not one about the hot night shared, something that, though, Teresa didn't see, couldn't bother to consider, too busy panicking noticing how late it actually was. Sleep in, he had said in the note. And that was the result.

She opened her eyes, widely, dilated pupils because of the panic, out of fear, and not of desire like the previous evening, and she run, run into the bathroom without even bothering to get dressed, stark naked, concentrated on the quick shower she needed to take to clean herself from his scent, on the makeup she knew she was going to need afterwards to hide his marks, the visible ones, the hickeys on her neck, on her shoulders, the bruises on her skin, where he had gripped her the night before while he possessed her with wild abandon….

_Don't think about that. Think about all the things you still need to do_. She reprimanded herself while washing away the cinnamon soap from her skin, from her hair, just allowing herself for a brief second to wonder how he could know the exact brand she used, just to getting angry at herself once again because she wasn't supposed to think about him. Lisbon knew she needed to think about the place, about all the small details she had to improve to make it look like her own, hoping that Stella could actually believe that it was their love nest.

Still, it was pointless. It wasn't just the fact that everything around her screamed, somehow, "Jane" at her, it was that even what she did was screaming the name at her. Like the green shirt she was putting on- it was one he had complimented her about time before. She couldn't help it, she just couldn't stop thinking about him. And thinking about him, made her think about her own feelings.

She wasn't going to lie- she had always liked Jane, but it had been a while since "liking" had turned into "loving", not just like that, but, slowly. It had been a long process, she reckoned, a feeling blossomed in almost a decade's time, deepening a bit more every time Jane allowed her to see Patrick behind his mask, just to appear one day as a whole being, pros and cons.

She smiled, last button buttoned. Because the fact that he had allowed her to see not through him but him, directly, that he had been open and honest with her and her only had given her hope; she had hoped that things were different, that his feelings for her went beyond friendship. But love? He had never given her sign of being in love with her, and even with the night before, she didn't know what to say, what to think. She wasn't a child any longer, she knew that sex didn't equal love.

She knew that she had made love to him, but what about him? She wasn't sure, and, frankly, as right as it had felt, as much as she still thought it was right, she couldn't help but fear the repercussions of her actions. Here they were, but what was going to happen to them after Stella's departure? The woman was supposed to stay only one week, and now Lisbon couldn't stop thinking that she could have lost him, her best friend, for few hours of pleasure and bliss….****


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** sadly, it's not mine. But my brother forgot to buy me a Christmas gift, and told me he would make it better in a couple of months fro my birthday... hey, a girl gotta dream, right?  
>..<p>

**A/N. **thanks to everyone who put me on alert and on favs-looks like I'm more appreciated when I wrote romance... and if you left me a review and I didn't come back to you: sorry, and thanks for all your nice words and encouragement. you are great, and, mostly, one of the reasons I still keep writing...

(BTW... Guess What? Stella!)

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><p><strong>Four<br>**

She jumped, taken aback, when, still in front of the mirror, long dark hair still wet, naturally curly, she heard the click of the lock of the front door, and she run, almost falling from the stairs, to welcome them at open arms, shivering and blushing fearing that Stella could really be like her brother, could actually see through her, reading her mind, see the sinful things the mentalist inflicted her among the sheets, and what she inflicted to him as well, not a prude, open minded as she had never been before in bed with other men…. She knew she was blushing, she was aware of that, always been, even before Jane come along keeping bringing it up, but she just hoped she wasn't looking like the heroine from those cheap romance novels she had but claimed to hate and not possess, the look they had after a night of making love, that dreamy and hair-headed, but, like often remembered by male characters, so, so sexy._ Is he going to think this of me as well?_

She had barely had the time to arrive at the door that something resembling a tornado hit her, engulfing her, Stella, so similar to her (half) brother with the blonde curls and the light blue/green eyes, slightly younger, a shocking resemblance with Kate Hudson, and everything happened so quickly that Teresa could barely register the arms around her neck, the warm embrace, as warm as anything she had received lately, and she felt tears…. Tears from that woman who didn't know her, from that woman who thought her brother was getting married with her … for the first time in a while, she felt guilty. And dirty.

"Oh, Teresa, you can't imagine how happy I am to finally meet you! Rick has told me so much about you and you two, I think I already know you, and I couldn't wait to meet you for real, and I've always told Rick you were just perfect for him and one day he'd see it and here we are now, and you two are getting married and I so knew it and you can't imagine how happy I was to know he met someone and had decided to start anew, and knowing it's you he is going to start a family with is even better!" as Stella kept talking without taking a single breath of air, hopping with her hands on the cop's shoulders, said cop remained speechless and kind of astonished, because, really, where was the terrible person Jane had describe her? Stella looked just like someone a bit too enthusiastic, maybe with a tendency to go where she wasn't supposed to, but certainly, she didn't look like some kind of female mentalist, nor a tyrant. Not if her behavior was indication of anything…. "Well, Rick here forgot to tell me you were absolutely cute, but I guess I'll forgive him. it's what little sisters are supposed to do, right? Idolize their big brothers and assume they are just perfect!"

A little piece of Lisbon's heart broke as she heard that simple sentence. Stella did knew about her, knew a lot- or at least, she assumed so – but still, her brother had never told that his girlfriend was cute. She kept asking herself why, over and over. Didn't he think she was cute? Or, did he just told Stella the most important details, forgetting everything about the rest? Or maybe, he didn't find her cute at all; after all, she was Teresa Lisbon, senior agent, nothing but plain, there was no reason for him to be sexually attracted to her, also because…. Because she had seen pictures of her, of Angela, his beautiful wife, a princess from a fairytale, but, still, was it really necessary? He should not have done that, threatening her that way, in front of Stella, a woman who was supposed to be her soon to be sister in law, even if it was just a lie, a lie they were the only two aware of. But, after all, she couldn't say she was surprised, considering it was Patrick Jane she was thinking about, always honest about the others, unable to hide things concerning the rest of the universe.

Even reading her feelings, or maybe just because of what he saw into her green irises, Jane just smiled, a Cheshire grin printed on his lips. "Teresa isn't cute. Cute isn't an adjective that suits her." With two quick steps, he joined his "girlfriend", and without touching her with his hands, he kissed her, a peck on the lips that was extremely close to a very passionate kiss, so close it was almost a make-out session; still, she answered to his kiss, with as much passion as he had put into it, but as soon as she started to enjoy it, when she was going to throw herself at him - literally – he parted, grin still in its place, and all she could do was staring, unable to think, unable to understand, still partly mad because of his words, still incapable to read between the lines, to understand where he was going, what he wanted, from her and from them.

"Stella, Teresa is the most beautiful and charming woman I had ever seen, and I didn't tell you because I knew you weren't going to believe me and I wanted for you to see it with your own eyes." His voice was a whisper, words breathed on her lips, the same lips he was going to kiss once again, but this time differently; lost in her own eyes, there was no trace of malice or mischief, but something else, something entirely different, something Teresa couldn't describe. She shivered, confused, shocked by his deepness, by his honesty. She didn't know what to say. She didn't know if he was just a good actor, and an extremely good one, or if maybe, just maybe, he was honest.

It was Stella's brilliant laughter to awake her from her reverie, from that kind of state of trance she seemed to fall into almost every time Jane was around, put into it by his very presence and not his voice or his touch. "Typical Rick. He says something tactless, but the he remedies saying something that's incredibly sweet, looking at you with those puppy eyes, and all you can do is forgiving him!" she laughed again, just once, then she started to walk around, wondering around the space she could have access to without having to bother asking. She kept walking, until her eyes fell on a picture - She took it in her hands, the picture, a framed image of few years prior, and looked at it with dreamy eyes, taken completely by what she was seeing…. Her brother, in smoking, Teresa with a gorgeous black dress, an evening gown, his arm around her waist, eyes in the eyes, smiling, almost conspirators somehow, isolated from the rest of the world, glasses of champagne in hand to cheer up to a magic that was theirs and theirs alone.

At her back, Teresa jumped, seeing what Stella was carefully studying, the picture she was gently skimming over with long fingers. That picture, she knew it, she had saw it so many times… because she had it as well, preserved from years, carefully hidden between the pages of her favorite book, and Jane, Jane had had it, he had kept it, framed it, secured it. And she didn't knew it, never did. It was another piece of the puzzle that was Jane that kept confounding her; the more time passed, the more she started to think it wasn't a scam, not just a lie, an act, but something real, that they were meant for each other, to stay together, because, maybe, he loved her for real. Maybe her feelings weren't one-sided as she thought, maybe they were reciprocated.

"You know, Rick, it's pretty amazing what Teresa did to you. I've never thought possible that I'd have seen the day you'd stop living into a motel room, and now, this, a proper home, with real furniture. And tidy. You, woman, are just great! "

The aforementioned woman went to hide behind Jane, eyes on the soil blushing furiously and tucking a rebel lock of dark hair behind her ear . For many reasons, one of them was the fact that Jane had never moved on because of her. And because she wasn't exactly the right person to address for a tidy and ordinate proper place, considering that she put in order only when she was extremely nervous. "Uhm, well, we'll see what you'll think when my compulsive untidiness will start to show….. the place is kind of new and freshly rearranged, so it's no big deal, it's kind of easy, I mean, I'd feel guilty leaving everything around…"

"And that's the reason she still had unpacked boxes in the middle of her living room after 4 years she had moved there!" he hugged her from the back, an arm around her waist, the whisper of a kiss on her dark, wild curls, natural and not styled in any way, just like he loved them the most and his mind wondered back, a few years, to a dark day, when Teresa Lisbon opened completely up to him, trusted him beyond reason, was naked, figuratively speaking, right before his eyes, those days, when she thought she had killed a man, body and mind poisoned by that evil doctor, and he was there, to take her in his arms, to save her. and he did it, he saved her, like he had promised her to just few months before.

"Can I take a look around?" Jane laughed under his teeth, smiling, looking at his fully grown up sister, still behaving like when they had first met, many years prior, when she was just a teen. She still had those huge, puppy eyes, and she still pouted in that particular way that made impossible saying no to any request. Eve if… even if he knew. It wasn't that she wanted to have the tour. She wanted to have a tour with Teresa. "Teresa, just remember that I still have Annie's number, so rest assured that if I get to know she told you embarrassing details about my life, I'll get Tommy to repay the favor!" He screamed, still laughing, while he come back into the kitchen to keep himself busy, and to avoid listening to their conversation, almost positive that Stella would say embarrassing things, anecdotes from his childhood learnt from their mother; he grinned when he saw Teresa, dragged upstairs by what, in a perfect words, would really be her soon to be sister in law, showing him her tongue, playfully, laughing and smiling. Like they were a real couple.

Meanwhile, upstairs, Teresa was silently thanking God that, in all his pomposity and arrogance (and jerk-ness) Jane had decided to move in something quite… small, for his taste, and not something à la Mashburn, like she thought he would have done, once returned to be a fully functional and complete human being. She thanked for that, and for the small tour Jane himself had given her the previous evening, before things went south. Also, she thanked God that she (they) had put Stella inside the first room once reached the top floor, hence avoid her need to put her nose where the younger "Jane" wasn't supposed to even if… even if the real motive they had put her there was no more, since Teresa's belongings had been put not in the guestroom like they had previously agreed when they decided to play this charade in Stella's honor, but in the master bedroom, alongside Patrick's, after they had decided that they were both adults and that could need a little bit of comfort and release without adding anything else.

"Oh my freaking, bloody hell!" she woke from her reverie when she herd Stella clapping her hands and jumping enthusiastically like a child in candy-land, and she left her spot in the corridor to join the younger woman inside the room. She smiled of a little smile, her heart happy to see that Stella did have something in common with her brother- the tendency of getting distracted (or apparently so) by things. Things like fresh linen in cotton, bought in a whim inside a small shop, coming from the Provence, like the bars of soap, lavender and rose and milk and strawberries and cream ( her favorites), or things like the bottle Californian red wine, or maybe, the box of chocolate from Marie. All things she loved herself, but had never indulged into, too busy being a cop and forgetting about the woman. "You know, this doesn't exactly scream Patrick to me…" Stella teased, falling on the bed, Teresa in front of her, uneasy, not really knowing what she was supposed to do. She had sisters in law, and nieces and nephews, but when the boys got their own lives, she had been long gone. Having, for the first time, a soon to be sister in law (or… well… Stella) at home, her own home (or, well, Jane's place) was definitely new. But… she wasn't sure she wasn't liking it. Stella seemed to be a nice person, a little bit like Jane but more normal, less on the edge, probably for the lack of traumatic events tainting her life and the slightly different uprising, with no father forcing his own child to be a con-man… Stella was the kind of person she was going to miss, once it was over.

She sat at the other woman's side, not looking at her but at her own feet, smiling of a sad smile, her mind on overload, filled by memories of her past. "My mum… she loved taking care of our guests. Back home, in Chicago, we always arranged everything together. She loved taking care of people, making them feel special, appreciated." She made a face, suddenly. "My brothers, they weren't exactly into French linen. Or soap." She laughed, and both then fell in a comfortable silence, a silence neither of them were willing to break, so delicate and precious it was – Stella didn't need to be her brother to understand the underlines of Teresa's words, to get that she had lost her mother, probably at a young age, and that she had to look after few younger siblings. She understood it even if Rick hadn't told her so, keeping the talk about Teresa at a minimum, but saying everything there was to say in few words or even less.

"He is happy" Stella suddenly said, getting up, sitting at crossed legs, Indian style, her back against the headboard, looking in front of her and never at Teresa, like she was scared or it was a too deep confession, but there was a smile on her lips, one Teresa knew too well, one she had seen so many times on the woman's brother. "he is as happy as I haven't seen him in a long time."

Teresa just nodded, and Stella saw that as her encouragement go on. "I know how he looked from the outside, but… you have to understand, Rick has always wore a mask, and besides, it's not like Alex taught him any different, nature and nurture, you know? Angela and Charlotte, they were the only good and real things about him, in his life, and… sometimes, I think that saying he loved them couldn't even start to cover what he really felt. And when they died…"she paused again, this time, looking at her hands, her interlaced fingers, and a small ring in her right hand, gold with a black stone, like a heart. "Rick… he felt so guilty, because of what he told about Red John, because he hadn't quitted, that he… he built a wall around himself, never allowing anyone inside, never leaving himself. He become a prisoner of his own soul, of regret and sense of guilt, but you… you know, every time he talked about you, I could see you walking past his defenses, and making the wall fall. I could.. sense that he was coming back to being… functional, and now that I look at him, I see that he is happy, again. maybe even more than before because he knows he is a better man."

"He has always been a good man. He helped people…"

Stella rolled her eyes. "Don't take me wrong, I adore Rick, but I knew him back then. He used to sell hope in exchange of money, to put food in the plate at the end of the day, but he was still doing it for the money. But now, I see that he does it because he feels he has to, and because he really thinks he can make a difference."

"And on a state salary, nonetheless!" Teresa smiled, but not too honestly, not with her heart. It was, after all, just a pathetic tentative of lowering the tension, hoping that Stella would change the subject, or maybe, just maybe, even shout up, stop altogether that complete nonsense about her being Jane's guiding light, the real and only love of his life.

"So.. don't go breaking his heart, because I don't think he could recover this time around. You saved him, and he is the kind of man who needs it constantly." The breath died into Teresa's throat, hit by the irony, shocked by the fact that, contrary to what she had thought until that moment, Stella was definitely no Patrick Jane. She didn't need to ask Jane if he loved her, because she knew the answer was no. She knew that whatever was going on between them was a farce, a parenthesis, brief, doomed to end soon breaking her heart in the process. But she couldn't do any different. Jane was her drug, and she couldn't die without having had her filling as long as she could. She need to feel like she really belonged to him again and again, to remember it once he'll be gone, once he'd be no more hers. She just couldn't help it. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** sadly, it's not mine. But my brother forgot to buy me a Christmas gift, and told me he would make it better in a couple of months fro my birthday... hey, a girl gotta dream, right?  
>..<p>

**A/N. **thanks to everyone who put me on alert and on favs-looks like I'm more appreciated when I wrote romance... and if you left me a review and I didn't come back to you: sorry, and thanks for all your nice words and encouragement. you are great, and, mostly, one of the reasons I still keep writing...

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><p><strong>Five<br>**

Teresa knew that, on a rational level, she was supposed to dread the evenings, when she came back to Jane's, but, truth to be told, she couldn't find in her to be scared.

It was quite the opposite, and what scared her was how easily she had fallen in a routine that saw the day belonging to the job, the evenings to meals and chats spent with "Patrick" and Stella, while the nights, the night no longer filled by nightmares, hurting memories of her teen years and insomnia, but by passion.

The nights, those belonged just to her and Jane, and every night, as long as she was sharing his bed, even if there was a tiny part of herself that kept repeating it was a mistake, they both kept falling victim to passion and lust, abandoning themselves to each other in the quiet and dark room, just to be lulled by their breathing and heartbeat to sleep afterward. She kept saying that it was merely sex, that they were both considerate adults who hadn't been into a relationship of any kind for too long, but, every night as she went to sleep, her head on his naked chest, listening to his heart, she knew otherwise.

She knew she was in love with him, knew she was just torturing herself, and knew that, despite her affirmation, feelings were very much involved, at least on her side. But… that was just half of the problem.

The other half was what side of Jane she had fallen in love with. Because one thing was caring about and wanting the affectionate, good-looking and skilled and talented lover that kept her body warm in their sensual nights, but loving just him, Patrick, was another pair of sleeves.

She found herself realizing that she had fallen for him for the small things, the details, lost looking at him while driving her to work in his traps on wheels or reading a newspaper late in the evening, in front of the fireplace (with a pair of glasses, nevertheless. She couldn't believe he was such a narcissist he was hiding the fact he actually needed glasses to read…); she was mesmerized, looking at him talking with his sister, discovering yet again another layer of the man she had known for almost a decade, one she had never witnessed before, one that she was absolutely crazy about – a man not only free from his obsession, but carefree, at least when with the younger woman, a man who always showed an honest to God smile, open and funny, but not in a childish or stupid way like often on the job.

She was just glad that, after their amicable chat in the bedroom the day of her arrival, maybe under Jane's orders, Stella had dropped the subject of their relationship altogether, contrary to the man's initial fears, not fuelling her childish and irrational fantasies any further - it was bad enough knowing that her "relationship" had an aspiration date, but knowing that while hearing someone talking about love and weddings, Teresa was sure she wouldn't be able to deal with that.

On the last day, though, just few hours before leaving, Stella decided it was time to drop the bomb once again and to stop behaving like she had promised her brother to. The younger woman knew it wasn't exactly right, but she had just few hours left in their company, and there was a couple of questions she wanted to examine before it was too late. As much as unconventional Rick was, as many mistakes he had done in the past, and even if she hadn't known him since her birth, he was still her brother, and she loved him.

And she wanted to make sure he was happy. And even a blind would have seen how much happy Teresa made him. Only, to work on the permanent long term thing, it looked like he needed a bit of encouragement. And encouraging him was what she was best at. Subtly, of course.

"You know, my boss is such an ass, you can't imagine what a scene he did when I asked for my vacation time! I work like a mule for months, I work extra hours, I even help him out on my supposed free days, and when I ask him for a couple of days off, he just start mumbling some nonsense about having to tell him with months prior and not at the last moment! Like I could actually know what, say, I'll do in six months time!" she exclaimed, exasperated, her last evening, while she was cutting vegetables in the kitchen while Jane was looking at some cake and Lisbon was dealing with the beef. The man, as soon as she had started her lamentation, has started grinning, barely resisting the urge of laughing. Because, even if she was his sister, Stella hadn't inherited his acting skills, and even Teresa could see that she was faking it. It was all an act, and as soon as she said the last words, they both got where she was going – Teresa's blushing face was telling him as much.

"If this is one of your subtle hints to tell us you need to know in advance the date of the wedding, I'm telling you, sis, you are wasting your time here… we haven't thought of a date yet and we'll not think of a date in the immediate future."

"Yes, but what I'm telling you is, when there will be a date, you'll need to decide it in advance, so that your family, and I assume hers as well, could take what common human beings define as vacation time to actually attend the ceremony. You don't want Teresa to be all alone on her wedding day, right?" he rolled his eyes, puffing. Stella, when she wanted, could be exasperating. And even worst- she kept playing the mommy with him, him, the way older eldest brother. Or maybe the teacher. He had never had a proper teacher, but, from Lisbon and Annie's (the beloved niece of his beloved lady cop) tales, he assumed there wasn't such a difference…

"Listen, 10, 15 years ago, I could have agreed with you, but right now, I really don't see your point. Society and law have evolved, right now marriage is no longer a necessity to have rights upon each other, and children born inside and outside the marriage have equal status. Teresa and I are fine this way, Stella, we just need each other without the troubles of having to follow archaic traditions connected to a bourgeois society now decadent."

"Here we go, mentalizing modern day's society…" she rolled her eyes, annoyed, and turned to face her brother, clearly annoyed, but just not that. Jane could see it in her eyes, Stella was serious. And mad with him. The fire in her eyes told him as much. "First: maybe you kind of forgot it, but in modern day's society, as you call it, women actually have a saying about their lives. So, I think that you should just ask her what she wants, instead of assuming by reading her, like you do with everyone else, and besides… what kind of man are you? A wedding is serious business for us women! She is probably arranging it since she was a young girl, and you… you are robbing Teresa of the most important day of her life!" she started to cry, and Jane fought the urge to pat her back to sooth the pain like she was younger, but decided against it. There was a chance he had been wrong, and that Stella had, indeed, inherited his acting skills. In doubt, he rather preferred not giving her any field advantage.

Teresa, on her side of the kitchen, instead, was… divided. She didn't know if make a face (when she was a teenager, her priorities had been finishing school, putting enough food in the plate for her family with her job and defending her brothers, and definitely not thinking about how she wanted her wedding dress to look like) or simply fallen victim to the nervous breakdown that had slowly made its way into her since her arrival days prior at Jane's (because thinking of a wedding while she and Jane were going to "break up" was just too hurting, too frustrating).

At the end, she decided to have mercy of herself and Jane and find an excuse that could shout Stella up for the time being. "Stella, take it easy. Before setting on a date, we'll have to tell my brothers that we are actually together, and that, we'll not do it until at least Christmas, when I hope I'll be able to finally fly to Chicago and tell them in person of this… development."

"She thinks they'll not understand because she told them for years that I was a thorn in her side and an immature idiot…."

"…which you obviously are not…." She sarcastically added, repressing the urge to either laugh or shout at him in exasperation.

"…so she wants to explain them in person how it happened that she fell head over heels in love with this charming and handsome specimen of male…"

"aka an immature idiot and a pain in the ass, because that's how I usually call you, darling, a pain in the ass. Don't deny it, when it comes to work, you are oh so terrible!"

"Don't listen to her, sis, that's all an act to look like a though on the book cop. Which she isn't." he smiled, when he had to retrieve an apron that Teresa herself, extremely annoyed, had thrown at him. Oh well, at least it wasn't a piece of office furniture. Or a bullet. "She is just very motional about it, and she feels like she has to be face to face for this kind of discussion. Teresa here isn't simply the mother hem of her family, she is the mother, and like any other mother with her children, even if they are all grown up and divorced, she wants to be the one telling them they are going to get a daddy. Or, at least, a very cool uncle for their own children."

"Oh, yeah, right, a cool uncle that teach them to pick pockets, con poor Rigsby and to manipulate me."

"Ehy, at least I didn't teach her hypnosis, considered you are so against it, and besides, I'd like to remember you that what I thought her, are all things important in her line of work…"

"Annie is merely 14 and if Tommy dares to bring her along just another time for his so-called bounty hunt job, I swear to God that I'll kill him with my own two hands. The same that will happen to you if you dare to get close to her again. Especially to teach her… things she shouldn't learn at all. It's bad enough she is growing up with divorced parents and a mother that behaves like she is bipolar and concentrate on her own fun and sleeping around, she shouldn't… be put in all of this. She shouldn't consider a job where she could die, where she doesn't have a private life, doesn't go out or meet normal people, a job that allows her close to no sleep and stop her from seeing her family when she feels like!"

"Oh, c'mon, you don't see enough your family because they basically live on the other side of the country, and you do have a private life. I mean, you have me, after all…"

"I have you that are my consultant! Jane, we met at work, on the job! Like I did basically with the majority of my last relationships!"

"First, you didn't have relationships, you had one night stands before me. Second, do you have an idea how many couples meet at work? The world is full of people who's married and work together! Third, don't underestimate Annie. If, in few years time, she'll still think she'll want to be a cop, I'm sure she'll make it to detective in no time. She is astute and has a great ability in observing. Did you know that she pointed out to me that we were crazy in love with each other? At a time I wasn't even close to admitting it with myself. I bet she'll not be surprised that, at the end, we surrounded to our own feelings. I'll tell you, I bet everything you want that, when you'll tell your brothers about me, they'll not be surprised because she has probably already prepared them for this possible outcome."

"You know that I don't like betting, especially with you. Only a madman would bet with a professional conman like you."

"Or, maybe, you just know that I'll be right yet again and you absolutely hate when you have to say that you are sorry to me because you mistrusted me yet again when, yet again, I was right from the start."

"Don't you ever get bored of being so full of yourself?"

"Nope, because, like you, my dear" he said, stealing a quick kiss, just a quick peck that made her blush. "I'm completely in love with myself. And, like it or not, I know you love me because that's how I am, and you'd never change me for anything in the world. Because, otherwise, I'd not be the man you feel in love with"

He smiled, and yet again he stole another quick peck on her lips, and yet again Lisbon blushed, smiling a little. She was beyond confused, and yes, a little scared. Everything he had said about her was true. She loved him for who he was, and she didn't want for him to change, not for her, didn't want to see him looking any different, from his character to his look, because that was the man she had fallen, hard, for. Was he reading her mind? Was he just acting? She didn't know what she wanted to believe. Both possibilities were equally scary, in her mind, though.

"You know, you are right, there's no need for a marriage. You already behave like an old married couple, with all this bantering." Stella smiled, grinning mischievously, inserting herself in the conversation. Both Lisbon and Jane blushed- yes, even Jane- because, frankly, they had forgotten about her. It had been just them, the rest of the world, simply gone, vanished. "But, still, I think that you should hurry up and put a ring on it before someone else noticed all her good sides and proposed first. And you don't want to lose her, right?" He rolled his eyes, and Teresa, she simply laughed at the sight.

It was… strange, in a good kind of way, seeing Jane being pestered by his sister, a sister who kept behaving like a mommy. She smiled, imagining a scene that never actually took place, both Jane and Stella robbed of their own siblings- she could see Jane taking his sister for her pigtails, and she could see Stella playing the nurse and the caring mother with both her beloved dolls and her brother, whenever he was sick.

"No" he whispered, at low voice, again lost in Teresa's eyes, again trapping the rest of the world outside their own bauble. "No, I don't"  
>Teresa found her eyes suddenly filled by silent tears, and, she wasn't sure if consciously or not, she got closer and closer to Jane, until her chest was pressed against his warm light blue cotton shirt, one hand in his curls, the other one cupping his cheek, while he held her for the waist like for dear life. They closed their eyes, and inhaled deeply each other's scent, until Teresa broke the spell by kissing him, not a quick peck like he often did, like he had done just minutes before, but not even the lustful ones they shared in the privacy of the bed where they loved each other silly every night.<br>It was… different. It was a kiss of love, full of feelings, at least for her. "And I'm not planning on leaving. I love this life too much for renouncing this." she held him again, hiding her face in the crock of his neck, crying silently in his collar, hoping that Stella would mistake them for tears of happiness, and not the ones of a broken and desperate soul, of a woman who had had everything and was going to lost it, because deep down the cop knew the truth- it was all a farce, and Jane wasn't in love with her.

But at that moment, he lifted her chin with his right index, green eyes focused and lost into ocean blue ones, and he lowered his head to hers, allowing their lips to melt in that slow and sensual movement that had become routine as soon as they had started it just few days prior; that, got Stella pretty exited, and like the romantic girl she could be from time to time, she clapped her hands together, squeaking like a mouse among a forest of cheese. "You know, I have the sensation that next time I'll be here, we'll be arranging a wedding. Or maybe, even attending one…."

"You can bet on it" he answered, his voice a whisper on Teresa's lips, still refusing to let it go of her or of her gaze, refusing to let it go of the woman in his arms altogether. He was scared, terrorized just thinking about how he could have gone on living his life after having tasted this slice of heaven with her. she was going to no longer be his, body and soul, soon enough, and he didn't know how he could have been able to deal with that, a life without her, looking at her meeting Mr. Right, getting married to him, having the children of that man, and not his own…

And he didn't know she was thinking the same, was hunted by the same nightmares. He didn't know, because he wasn't a mind reader, he didn't know because she wasn't transparent, but just translucent.

He had never been as good as he claimed at reading her. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** sadly, it's not mine. But my brother forgot to buy me a Christmas gift, and told me he would make it better in a couple of months fro my birthday... hey, a girl gotta dream, right?  
>..<p>

**A/N. **thanks to everyone who put me on alert and on favs-looks like I'm more appreciated when I wrote romance... and if you left me a review and I didn't come back to you: sorry, and thanks for all your nice words and encouragement. you are great, and, mostly, one of the reasons I still keep writing... and chymom: I don't know if there will be a follow-up, but I can tell you, there'a still another chapter after this one, so, it's not exactly over yet. thnaks a lot also to totorsg, josy and krolinette: and to HappySoul (sorry if I din't answer in the last chapter: as you may have seen last chapter, I've already tried to make paragraphs a little shorter, and as for the beta, the probelm it's not finding one, but one that doesn't disappear (completely) withot bothering telling you they are no longer interested in beta-ing...

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><p><strong>Six<br>**

Stella left their lives- Lisbon's in particular – in the same way she had entered it, like an hurricane, leaving a trail of destruction and devastation at her back, just like only her brother could do, with just an hug, few tears (silent) and begging them to decide already on a date, because "Rick couldn't allow to let a golden woman like Teresa escape, risking to see her ending up in some billionaire's arms" (Lisbon laughed at this affirmation, both because it was funny being called, for once, the "golden girl", while Jane was still nicknamed the "golden boy" by the whole CBI, especially higher-ups, and because of the face the man did at the mention of the billionaire, mouth and eyes wide open, pale, obviously thinking back to Teresa's brief affair with Mashburn).

They said goodbye that way, with Teresa explaining that goodbye weren't really her thing, and that she preferred to stay at home, to put everything in order, cleaning being one of the few things able to sooth her soul, and soothing, she definitely needed, because Teresa knew that, just in a matter of days, she had gotten her poor heart broken once and for all. It was strange, but, just like she had done with her brother, Teresa had immediately been fond of the younger woman, immediately liked her. She hadn't liked lying to Stella, and the thought that she was no longer going to have another woman in her life, not related to the job, and that didn't see her like the surrogate mother in law, was making her suffer.

Like she was suffering because, in just few hours' time, she knew she had to leave, end the charade, her proof of extremely talented actress in the role of the girlfriend.  
>As soon as the siblings were out, she hugged herself, and slowly, very slowly, went inside the room she had shared with her consultant in the last few nights, and looked at it with a pain in her soul. She wasn't ready to leave, didn't want to, but knew she had no choice, no saying, and that postpone it any further was just going to make it worse.<p>

She just told herself she was cleaning up because, for her and Stella, Jane had put aside his place even too much, and keeping it order, or at lest like she had found it, was the least she could do. But she knew the truth, even if she didn't want to admit it with herself first. She actually wanted to postpone. She wanted to wait for Jane to come back from the airport, hoping to get lost in him one last time, to burn in her memory everything, every sound he made, every movement, every centimeter of his naked skin moving on top of her naked body on the cold silky sheets of his bed while they made… while they had sex.

She skimmed every surface of the room, to imprint them in her memory as well, and to remember him in that environment, what he said and what he had done, him brushing her hair, undressing her, kissing her neck from behind while she was looking at herself in the vanity mirror in the mornings, getting ready to go the CBI. And then, when she reached his bedside table, she saw them, just under the chair close to his side of the bed, few coins, probably escaped the night before from his pockets when he undressed to go to sleep- actually, when he threw in an hurry his clothes on the pavement to join her naked self in bed for another round of passionate intercourse.

She smiled, fond of the memory, savoring it for the time being, and decided to open the drawer, hoping to find maybe a spare wallet or maybe a box or something else; the inside, covered with an old-looking fabric like the bedside table at her side, was clean and immaculate like everything that belonged to Jane alone, and almost empty, saving for one thing, a frame, quite heavy from the look of it, and big as well, in solid silver and a blue night velvet; it was turned upside down, so she couldn't see who was in the picture, but, somehow, she knew, she knew even without the need to actually look at it. But, still, she did it anyway.

She lifted the frame, feeling its weigh on her hands, heavier than it was supposed to be, and she did, she looked at the image, and found out she had been right from the instant she had seen the object in question. It was a wedding picture, a 20 something years old Jane with his wife, Angela, him in one of his three pieces suits, nothing to do with the ones he could have once become rich, and her, dressed with a simple white and flowing dress, embraced, happy, on the verge of sharing a sweet kiss of love….Angela, his late wife. Beautiful, angelic, graceful and feminine, nothing to do with tomboy cop by the book Teresa Lisbon, definitely not the kind of woman who made heads spin when she walked along the streets.

He still loved her. After so many years, Jane was still in love with his late wife, and… she let herself fall on the bed, thinking about how she had traumatized him, how she had taken advantage of him… it had probably been terrible for him, having to share his bed with another woman, and knowing that he hadn't been able to resist the call of lust… he had turned upside down the frame because he felt guilty, because he felt like he was cheating on his wife, it had to be that, there was no other explanation.

She bit her lips to suffocate the tears and the sobs, and she put the frame back where it belonged, only, thought, after having noticing something shining in the corner of the drawer… a small object, extremely common, every day occurrence when it come to Jane, something she had seen on him for so long it barely made sense he was no longer wearing it.

His wedding band.

She lifted it, and examined it, studied the artifact carefully, like it was a relic, but scared as well, weighing it in her palm, looking at it with dread in her eyes, like it could burn her finger, mark her skin of sinner and stealer of husbands any moment.

There was something written on the inside, in elegant, small letters. She had never thought there was something engraved in it. And it wasn't just a date. It wasn't just their monograms. It was a whole sentence. Forever yours. Forever mine. AR-PJ, 4/25/93.

She threw both frame and ring back into the drawer like they were burning, kind of evil, and she closed it with such a force that it actually cracked- she didn't care, couldn't care, though, didn't have the strength to. She could no longer keep on with such a lie, couldn't avoid crying any longer. Teresa Lisbon had been so silly and naïf to think she could avoid the awful truth, but the truth had decided to act first, biting her, slapping her, forcing her to face Jane's inexistent feelings for his boss.

Jane… Jane was never going to love anyone, especially herself, like he had loved Angela, like he still loved his beautiful and sweet late wife, Lisbon knew she had to face it, accept this fact once and for all, stopping all her childish nonsense about the possibility of a relationship with her consultant. After all, Jane had, until that moment, kept all the promises he had made to his wife. He swore on her grave to kill the monster responsible for her and their child's death, and he had done it, murdering Red John, and even going away with it. There was no reason to believe he could do otherwise with this one, that he was going to always be hers, of his wife, if not body, soul and heart at least.

This new found awareness crushed her, provoking a pain that was almost physical, an hole in her soul that she didn't know if it was going to be filled ever again…. she knew it wasn't going to, if she keep prolonging the lie. So, crying freely, sobbing to the verge of convulsing, she took away from the house everything that belonged to her, every sign of her presence, if only temporary, in that place. She hoped it could be enough, that, with time, she could try to move on, try to heal the wound.

She needed to think that, with time, they were going to be both better, back to what they had been until she had allowed herself into his bed and into warm and sensual embrace. She needed to believe it, needed to think she could actually heal, come back to be just his friend, that, in time, she'd be able to move on, find a man worthy her and have a family with him. Two children, two cars in the garage, a cat and a dog with a white fence included.

She just had to leave before he could come back, otherwise, she knew, she'd be back at square one, back to allow him to take her, over and over, and she had suffered enough. She was suffering enough.

On her way home, she speeded over, maybe for the first time in years for something that wasn't work-related, and run even through red lights, lights as red as her puffy eyes, teary. She just needed to be, for a short while, as far away as possible for him. She just thought about her pain. She didn't consider, neither for a second, the chance that, once found her gone, he could be the one feeling betrayed and alone, cheated on by life itself. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** sadly, it's not mine. But my brother forgot to buy me a Christmas gift, and told me he would make it better in a couple of months fro my birthday... hey, a girl gotta dream, right?  
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**A/N. **thanks to everyone who put me on alert and on favs-looks like I'm more appreciated when I wrote romance... and if you left me a review and I didn't come back to you: sorry, and thanks for all your nice words and encouragement. you are great, and, mostly, one of the reasons I still keep writing...

We've reached the conclusion of this journey, and I would like to thnak you alll for having been at my side, giving me the possibility of sharing this story. It's been a pleasure, and stay tuned for, somehwere around Vaneltine's day, I should post my next story, a one-shot featuring the Mentalist characters.

and now, without further ado, the last chapter!

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><p><strong>Seven<br>**

Late at night, the silence of her quiet road broke only by the heavy rain outside, she was still cuddled on her couch, busy eating chocolate mint ice cream and looking at chick-films she had never bothered to really look at right until that moment, masochistically wearing the same jersey she had wore the first night she and Jane had ended up in bed together, in a tangle of limbs and lips and moans of pleasure and sheets; tears kept coming in rivulets, leaving a trail on her skin, mascara gone, staining her porcelain-like skin. She knew it wasn't healthy, but as many tears as it caused, she couldn't stop the images from running through her mind, repeating and rewinding themselves before her eyes again and again, like on autopilot, her "story" with Jane, something lasted just few days, but that she had dreamt and fantasized about longer than she cared to admit.

Because she had been enamored with Jane for quite some time, being with him, really being with him, had just made her fall in love with him. Hard. And she had been that stupid, stubborn and naïf to believe that… that it could be possible. Because it had looked like that way, because that evening, in their… his kitchen, with Stella, she had allowed herself to actually think that he was being honest, that he could actually love her, dreaming of a future with blonde and green-eyed children alongside her.

Stupid. Naïf. Childish. Idiot.

Fists against the front door awoke her from her reverie, avoiding Lisbon from going through those painful memories furthermore; she froze for a second, hearing the thundering sound, hits so heavy and strong for a moment she thought the door could actually fell under the onslaught of the naked hands on the other side; she reached under the pillow, for the hidden gun she kept there just in case, and was already thinking about the best approach when she had to lower to weapon, because she heard it, and she had to rethink the whole scenario.

"Teresa… I know you are here…" his voice, not a scream, like the hits against the door could have suggested, but a low, desperate murmur, so low she could barely hear it. But his voice, Jane's voice was unmistakable, just like everything about the man himself. "Please…" he added, begging, and she could feel them, the tears and the pain and rage and desperation. Was it possible that she had red it, him, all wrong, that there was more than it met the eyes behind their charade, that he was suffering because….

Maybe she hadn't been stupid, naïf, childish and idiot, maybe, just maybe…

She heard an heavy thud against the door, this time, she thought, from his forehead colliding against the wood, and that was when she gave up keeping him at a distance. She couldn't keep him outside any longer, had to allow him inside, just this once, because she needed to know, and because she still cared, and she needed to make sure he was alright. She had always been a sucker, with all things Jane. Probably because she had decided to be his savior at any cost a long time before.

When she opened the door, the breath died in her throat. He looked… destroyed, on the verge of a nervous breakdown, almost panicking. Few times she had seen him like that- he had allowed her to see him like that, but the other times… it looked like it was another life, it was another person, because Jane had already been desperate, had already been suffering, almost crazy, but only when his past, Red John and his family, had been concerned. And now… here he was, right before her, completely soaked from head to toes, desperate and suffering and almost crazy with pain. For her?

"You took away your things…" he whispered, so low the rain was covering his voice. But still, she heard him, his words almost broken by quiet sobs dying in his throat, not an accusation but a mere fact. She thought she was seeing tears, but she couldn't say for sure- rain was still coming, wetting him further more.

"I thought it was the best thing to do. And besides…" she clenched her teeth, eyes closed because traitorous tears were menacing to escape her eyes as well, and she couldn't keep crying, not in front of him. She knew he could see the mascara, the make-up staining her face, but she could easily find excuses for those, but… she couldn't allow Jane to see her crying, couldn't let him know she was crying because of him. Unlike him, she couldn't say it was the rain wetting her cheeks.

"Besides" she continued "we always said it was going to last just until Stella was here. Now… now you are free. Just tell her that I got cold feet, and preferred to put my job before our relationship. She saw what a workaholic I can be, I'm sure she'll understand." She hugged herself, looking at her naked feet. She couldn't face him, wasn't able to, even if she was trying hard to put on her best act, to wear once again the mask of deception for him like she had done, and tried to, so many times since she had met him.

Though, pain and regret - not for what had happened, but for what she had lost - were unmistakable in her voice; there was no need to read her body language, and he didn't need to be such a good mentalist to know what she was going through. There was no need, because he was feeling the same, exactly, and reading in her the same things he had kept hidden for way too long in his heart somehow made him stronger, more daring.

Because, if she felt the same way he did about their abrupt ending, it meant she felt for him the same way he felt about her… maybe… she loved him as well, and not just like a friend, or a surrogate sibling like he had always assumed.

He got closer and closer, grinning like the cat that got the canary, like the Cheshire cat, and stopped only when he was right before her, their chests just a breath away. He leaned over her, his right hand lifting her chin, so that they could be eye in the eye. The moment the breath died in her throat, he felt it, like she could feel the heat radiating from his body. Even if he was soaking wet. She could just notice him, she didn't see even the trail of drops he was leaving on her parquet. And, unlikely from her usual self, she didn't care, couldn't bring herself to, even if she had cleaned her place the whole time she had been there in the vain hope of feeling better, of clearing her mind.

"You know, I don't think Stella will ever forgive us, if I'll tell her we broke up when she was already planning our wedding in her head. She'll be extremely disappointed…" he whispered, huskily, his lips almost touching her owns, shivers running along her spine. He was getting what he wanted, and she knew she was going to give up.

With her, Jane always got what he wanted. Once upon a time it had been only on the job, now it appeared the statement was true also concerning her body – their bodies. "And… I have to admit, I'll be as well. It's been… a rather interesting week, and I've come to love our routine. I think it would be a waste renouncing what we got just because…" he stopped, and turned suddenly serious, but warm and hot nevertheless. Still, it gave her the chills. "Make me happy, Teresa. Come back."

She looked at him, or rather, she focused on his lips, still confused, still unable to fully understand what he was trying to say, also because one moment he was grinning like he was joking, the next one he was dead serious.

"I… What exactly it is that you want for me?"

"I'm talking about a relationship, Teresa. Maybe even a marriage." His thumb walked across the skin of her face, trying to erase the smeared make-up, the tears, but still his hand was forcing her to lift her head. This, he couldn't do with just words. He needed for her to see his eyes as well. It was all in the eyes, he once told her about a suspect, and he knew that the statement was true. Even for broken men like him, for a liar for business like he has always been. "I know it's not the most romantic proposal I could have arranged, but you know how much I don't like clichés. And besides…"

He smiled, brightened by his own words, not noticing how stunned she was by his sentences- and not in a good way, not exactly "This way we'll keep Stella quiet. She may be the little sister of the pack, but she may be very scary when she wants to be."

"Yeah, really, what a great argument. Let's get married to keep your sister quiet!" she jerked away from him, boiling with anger, and she almost threw him out, out of her place and out of her life as well. He would have deserved it, they both knew it, but he couldn't allow it. He couldn't live without her, without the one who had always been there for him, saving him when he didn't even know he needed saving at all.

He closed to door with a bang, immediately taking possession of the keys, just in case. That, though, just made her angrier and angrier, made her move further more away from him, and when she turned to face Jane once again, hands on her hips, she was mad, she was suffering, she was passionate. The most beautiful creature he had ever seen. All for him, all because of him. "And… what do you tell me about your wife? You don't want me, Jane, you want… second best, if I'm second best at all! You don't want me, be honest and face it, you want someone to share your life with, because you are lonely and because you want to get rid of Stella, and I'm the convenient idiot!" she was screaming, and sobbing. But it wasn't just the pain. It was the rage, because he was so casual about their… relationship, lowering it to something he needed to have to keep up some façade instead of something he actually wanted to have.

"There are worst reasons than company and comfort for getting married!" he said, already regretting the words. He didn't even know why he had said them. She had been the one to bring up the argument, but he should have let it fall, because security, company and comfort were the last things on his mind when he was with her, when it come to her.

She stopped where she was, suddenly defeated, suddenly as sad and lost like he had never seen her before, not even when she had forgotten hours of her life and thought she had committed cold blood murder. She was suffering because she felt defeated. She was the shadow of the one she used to be, of the one she could be, because she had read the situation, and him, all wrong. She thought he wanted her for the wrong reasons. She thought he wasn't hers to begin with.

"There's a part of me that's tempted to say yes, but I cant, even if it's you. I know that company and comfort are good enough reasons to get married for many people, but not for me… I know my father suffered when he lost my mother, but I remember the happier days, I remember when they were young and happy and in love, and… and even if in the end the better part of him died along with her… they were in love, and they were so happy and carefree…. and when I'll get married… if I'll get married… it will be because I love him as he loves me, because, Jane, I want that kind of love. Doing otherwise, getting married because it's wise of a commodity… it wouldn't be fair to me or to him, doing any different. Even if it's you." _Especially if it's you. Even if I love you_. She though, but didn't add, scared to get hurt more than she had been.

She got closer to him, and for a moment Jane thought she was going to give him a goodbye kiss, but, instead, she removed from her left hand the ring, the one he had given her, taking hours to choose it because she needed something worth her even if nothing was good enough for his Lisbon, and she slowly took it off, placing it in his palm, closing his fingers around the piece of metal, her hand on his bigger one, squeezing it gently, unable to look away.

"What if you could have everything you want and even more?" he asked, his features bright and happy, like sunshine, sweet like honey, voice warm like a caress, desperately trying to see her, through her, to find a hint of hope for a future together, of the love for him he now knew she held without doubt.

"Listen, I know… I've been stupid, I should have told you everything right from the start… or even kept you out of this, but… I've always been selfish… and… despite the fact that I know you deserve better than me… and that I have nothing to offer you… it's just that… I don't know. Maybe I wanted to have a slice of heaven for myself for a little bit. Or maybe… I don't know. Maybe I hoped that, being with you 24/7 was going to suddenly make vanish my… this crush I had for you."

He paused, and looked at her, right in her eyes, his heart on his sleeve, as honest as just few times before. And never for things of this kind, with anyone. "I'm too selfish, Lisbon, I can't give you up, and frankly, I don't want to. What I want, is wake up in the mornings with you cuddled against my chest, I want to come back in the evenings and prepare together dinner, or wait for you and kiss you welcome back as soon as you walk through the door. I want to move on, Lisbon, but only if it's with you. You are not second best, because you are a completely different person like I'm not any longer that man, and there's space enough for all of you in my heart. What you need to know it that you are the only one I want from now on, it's you I love and that I want to love 50 years from now."

She squeezed the soft fabric of the wet vest searching for his eyes, she needed to see them, it was the only way to make completely sure he wasn't playing her. "But… Angela.."

"Aren't you listening to what I'm telling you, woman? As painful as it is, she is gone, even if she'll always be part of me, always have a piece of my soul. You, Teresa, I want you to be my future, I want you to have part of me as well, I want you to have the man you helped creating, if you'll allow me to have you."

He skimmed with his thumb over her lips, feeling the soft texture, their round fullness. They were just like her – sensual, erotic, and passion incarnate. "So… now that you know how I feel, would you give me a different answer if I were to ask you again?" he started to nuzzle her neck, leaving a trail of soft and sensual kisses on his trail, slightly nipping the soft skin, enough to redden it, but not enough to mark her, branding her as his own in front of the world.

She didn't even noticed that he had slipped back on her finger the ring, so caught up she was in his sensual heaven.

"Ask me again in a while and then we'll see…" she told him, forcing him to part from her, her voice low and husky with desire. She smiled at him, and walked backwards toward her bedroom upstairs, grinning at him, a came-hitcher look clearly visible on her, one he didn't mind to read, and didn't have any problem seeing. Like he didn't have any problem seeing the trail of clothes she left while she slowly and seductively walked towards her alcove, like a panther, or some mistress of seduction, a goddess that was undressing before him and for him alone. His, all his.

He howled in appreciation, grinning and licking his lips in anticipation.

"Stella's an amazing wedding planner, you know? But she can be such a stressful creature…. We'll need something to keep her… quiet…" he walked towards her, as slowly as Teresa, casually with hands in his pockets but grinning, eyes dark, dilated pupils; he slowly reached her, and while he strolled to the woman who got his heart, he got rid, once a time, of all articles of clothing, all still wet from the rain. It was a welcomed feeling, because the wet fabric was uncomfortable against his hot skin, and because he felt… constricted. He wanted, needed to be free from everything that was separating him from his only objective, loving Lisbon body and soul.

"Maybe we could think about getting to work on a baby Jane, starting… now?"

"I think that a little bit of practice is in order, first…" Fully naked, she laughed, an honest, real and happy laughter, coming right from her very soul; she waited for him, and took the man for his ring-less left hand, still amazed by the soft texture of the clearer ring of skin, and looking with a smile at their joined hands, she ragged him inside her bedroom, closing the door at her back not exactly gently. She was in a hurry, and she was in need, in desperate need of tasting once again him inside and around her, him everywhere, in need of melting into Jane… into her Patrick.

As they stumbled towards the welcoming piece of furniture, they both knew it was a matter of minutes, if not seconds, before everything would end up in a tangle of sheets and limbs and lips and moans of pleasure. Only, they knew that whatever was going to happen between them was going to be different, and yet better, than what they had previously experienced, even if they had already been together more than few times; right now they weren't merely having a slice of heaven, or taking whatever they could as long as they were able to; right now, from now on, they were getting it all, the whole package, both of them. And now, they both knew.

Because they were going to experience it with a lighter heart, but a fuller one nevertheless. They were together. And now, it wasn't pretended any longer. It was true, it was real. And it was forever and ever.

Their happily ever after. 


End file.
